The Cabin Is Always Hungry

FINDERS KEEPERS

Part 6

As Scottie lost sight of the group in the fog, his face suddenly scrunched up, and he whirled around as if he felt a presence behind him. However, the Goliath had already moved to the side and walked toward the back.

Scottie searched for a few seconds until his gaze landed on the driver’s side view mirror, catching a shadowy shape that disappeared into the mist, trailed by muffled heavy footsteps. Grasping [Telekinesis], I slowly dragged the walkie-talkie that Scottie placed on the passenger seat while he was distracted and shoved it underneath.

Scottie narrowed his brows, considering what to do. He went for his belt clip but found the walkie-talkie wasn’t there. He turned to the passenger seat, remembering where he had last put it. It wasn’t there either.

“The fuck?” Scottie muttered out loud. He searched at the sides and reached his arm underneath, almost touching the walkie-talkie by the tip of his index finger.

But whoever was outside the van was already getting away, moving toward one of the trails that led to the lake.

“Shit,” Scottie huffed.

It might be Eddie; he’s probably wondering.

He glanced at the cabin to where the other men were searching for him, then to the lonely trail. Eddie was a big guy (though the Goliath almost dwarfed him), and he reckoned he must be sneaking around the cabin, hiding from John and the others. Well, he was going to catch him instead.

Scottie took the bait.

He crawled into the back of the van and opened the duffel bag. He sheathed the knife on his belt and picked up a bigger wrench. Maybe he could knock out Eddie with it. Satisfied, he climbed out from the back and into the cold night.

“Guys?” Scottie called out in a whisper. He didn’t want to alert Eddie that he was on to him, but he probably guessed having a backup would increase his chances of capturing him.

No one answered. They’re too far away.

Scottie shifted nervously. “I can do this. I can do this,” he said.

I recognized that look he sported. One that wanted to prove something. He wanted to prove to John that he wasn’t a kid anymore. That he could correct his own mistake. After all, it was partially his fault that Eddie got away in the first place. If he had been in the room when Art was knocked out, he would have clobbered him, and John wouldn’t be upset.

Feeling the weight of the wrench, he marched toward the winding trail.

His Resolve turned a fair orange and slowly got darker the farther he got from the van.

Art and Leo flanked the cabin first, peering cautiously through the casement windows. It was too dark inside, and none of the cabin’s lights were on.

Leo shot a wary glance at the storage shed forty feet away down a slope, bordered by two tall trees with enough space out front for a large stump, where a black-iron hatchet with a darker yellow handle was embedded on the rough surface. Beside it was a stack of fire prest logs.

He stopped in his tracks, debating whether he should go over there.

With a sigh, he crept toward the shed and found the door open. The shed was as big enough to shove the van inside. He noticed the stacks of tools, a workbench on the opposite side, and a chainsaw on top of a Uline tool cabinet.

Leo searched the shed for a few seconds, glancing over the chainsaw, and ran his fingers over the unused metal blade of the cutter teeth. It looked brand new, as if someone just bought it from the store. It didn’t look like anyone was there, so he closed the door and headed to the back of the cabin.

Art, meanwhile, was still limping due to his (almost) fall at the dock. It didn’t look as bad when I left them, but he still felt discomfort when he put his weight on his ankle. He peered into the cabin’s small bathroom awning window, which was a little higher than the rest of the cabin’s windows. He had to stand on his tippy toes (with one foot) to get a good look inside. He found no one. He walked past the generator shed but didn’t bother to look in there, probably judging it was too small, and continued to the back porch. Leo was already bent over, cheek almost touching the ground, and checking underneath the porch in case Eddie hid there.

“Found anything?” Art whispered.

Leo shook his head. “Nothing.”

“Should we head inside?”

Leo nodded.

At the front porch, John reached out at the porch swing to stop it from swaying and creaking. He then crept closer to the living room’s bay windows and peeked inside. He could faintly see the outline of the fireplace, the half-end of the couch, and a little bit of the stag with elaborately sharp horns displayed on the wall, but nothing more. He moved toward the door and grabbed the handle.

It was unlocked.

I saw how glad he was of that. At least he didn’t have to pick a lock or something.

I intentionally left it unlocked anyway.

John stuck his head inside and looked around. When he thought the coast was clear, he stepped past the doorframe with the chill wind and slowly closed the door behind him. He didn’t want to alert whoever was inside with the sudden cold draft entering the cabin.

John looked around the kitchen and the living room with his flashlight. The cabin had an open floor plan, so there weren’t a lot of corners to hide behind. Plus, it’s a small building. It struck him weird that he didn’t hear snoring if people slept here.

It was deathly quiet.

He could practically hear himself swallow his saliva. He made sure not to trip on the rug along the way and watched his step. Cabins like these were bound to have creaky floorboards. He strode toward the kitchen island just in case Eddie was hiding behind it but found no one there.

John checked the first door to his right since it was closer and found it unlocked. He held his breath, anticipating that the door would creak so loud it would give him away, but it swung open without a hitch. There was a queen-sized bed and identical nightstands flanking it. A vanity next to a walk-in closet that was left open, and another door that led to the bathroom. A landscape painting of Mount Selene in winter hung on the wall above the bed.

There was no sign of Eddie.

The bedroom next door was also empty, with a similar design to the former room. Even the bathroom with its bathtub combined with a shower hose, a single toilet, and a small cubby area for supplies. By then, Art and Leo jiggled the doorknob on the back door. John crept down the short corridor to the mud room and let the two men inside.

“No one’s home,” John said worriedly. “I don’t even see any personal belongings. No bags. Nothing.”

“That’s weird,” Art blurted out.

“We can give it a second look. You might’ve missed something. Even if no one’s here, Eddie might be hiding,” Leo said.

Art and John took each of the bedrooms, searching every nook and cranny of the place. But Leo headed over to the living room, guided by the flash on his phone, and made sure he didn’t make any loud footsteps as he picked up the telephone next to the couch and put it against his ear. There was no dial tone.

I saw Leo visibly shiver, goosebumps rising to the nape of his neck. He surveyed the living room and walked over to the kitchen, touching the stove with his palm, frowning, and then checking every cupboard—no signs of food. Even the refrigerator was empty. The fireplace remained unlit, or it had never been used at all.

That troubled him more. I could tell.

It’s a cold night tonight, and there wasn’t a vent heater or a furnace to warm up the building.

“I should’ve put food there; my bad,” I muttered. I made a mental note to buy food with the crystals and conjure them in the cabin with magic. That shouldn’t cost much. I doubted Dungeon Cores across the universe would bother feeding their delvers and making the dungeon like a cozy home when they’re supposed to scare (or kill) them.

However, Leo’s Resolve turned from a lighter shade of green to a faint orange. Huh. Maybe that’s not bad after all. Clearly, I’ve spooked the Marine. It was weirdly one of my proudest moments that I managed to scare Leo—fucking—Grady. When I was a kid, I thought nothing scared the guy.

Leo entered the master bedroom, where John searched the empty walk-in closet. He didn’t even bother to be stealthy anymore.

“John,” he called out. “We gotta get out of here.”

“What? Why?”

“I don’t know, man. Something’s wrong. There’s no landline. No food. No bags. No clothes. No shoes next to the door. The stove’s not even warm. The fireplace hasn’t been used for how long. And get this: I didn’t see any family pictures, did you?”

John went rigid. “I didn’t notice that.”

“Weird, huh?”

“What are you saying? Like it’s staged?”

“Yeah. Maybe.” Leo gulped. “I don’t know.”

“You said this cabin never existed before, right?”

Leo nodded.

“Then what about the light we saw?”

“I don’t care anymore, Johnny. Let’s just get the fuck out of here. Eddie might still be in the lake. We’ll get down there and pluck him out if we have to—”

A muffled thud echoed from below.

John paused. “Did you hear that?”

Leo nodded and shushed him. “Follow me,” he mouthed.

Another thud, louder this time.

Leo and John walked out into the corridor where Art was already waiting, listening. He gave them a puzzled shrug. Leo also motioned for him to follow, and they walked back to the living room. The noise was a little louder here, coming from the carpet under the coffee table.

“Come help me with this,” Leo asked Art, gesturing to the coffee table. They lifted it while John pulled the carpet off, revealing a cellar door.

“So…what do you think is down there?” John asked Leo.

Leo shrugged. “Fuck if I know.”

“It could be Eddie.”

“Could be something else, too,” Art said.

“Like what, Art?”

“An animal?”

Leo tapped the tip of his boots on the latch lock bolting the door shut. “You think an animal crawled down there and locked itself inside?”

Art shifted uncomfortably from where he stood. “You’ve got the gun. You go first.”

Leo and John exchanged a worried glance; the former hesitated momentarily before he crouched down, slowly unlatched the bolt, and lifted the cellar door open. Immediately, a musty smell invaded their nostrils like earthen wood mixed with damp socks left out too long. They could hear the noise much clearer now. Scraping. Like someone kicking against the wood.

“Be careful,” John said.

“I’ve been shot at in the desert. This is nothing,” Leo said, but it was more for his benefit than the others.

Leo took a deep breath and tentatively took a step down, and down, and down, and down….he stopped. The darkness here was almost suffocating. He glanced over his shoulders to the others, remaining still on the landing.

Leo bent forward and aimed his phone into the darkness. It was a spacious cellar, but unlike normal cellars, this one lacked junk—no assortment of old furniture, cabinets, tools, and the like.

He scanned over to the southern corner—on Eddie bound to a toppled chair, mouth taped shut. One eye puffed from the bruises Leo had inflicted on him, but there was no mistaking the fear evident in his gaze. He was calling for help, begging, screaming even though his mouth was taped shut.

“Holy fuck!” Leo exclaimed out loud and bounded down the steps. John and Art followed, with the latter stopping in his tracks.

“Who the hell tied him up?” Art asked.

Leo was already on Eddie and peeled the tape off. It was harder to do, and he might have taken some of Eddie’s thick mustache hair with it. Eddie yelped from the tearing and shrunk away from Leo’s touch. It had only been less than an hour ago when Leo and the others were busy prying his fingernails and wrapping a wet rug over his head while they laughed.

“Get me the fuck out of here!” Eddie screamed.

“Eddie, Eddie, Eddie. Calm down. Who did this to you?” Leo tried to untie the ropes.

“I don’t fucking know! Some hillbilly!”

“Leo, hold up,” John said, gesturing for him to stop untying the ropes.

“John, someone tied him up, and it ain’t us!”

Still, Eddie flinched from the blade when Leo bent over again and started cutting the knots.

“Don’t touch me,” Eddie hissed once he was loose and tried to stand up.

Art’s eyes widened and pointed at Eddie’s injured leg. “Holy shit!”

“Something bit me in the lake,” Eddie said.

“Something bit you?” John asked incredulously.

“Some animal! Shit, I can’t tell. It was too dark. Wait, how did you get out here so fast? Did you fix the van?”

“No thanks to you,” Art said.

“Then let’s drive the fuck out of here!” Eddie tried to run for the stairs, but he yelped, pain radiating from the wound, so he hopped on his good leg instead.

John pushed him away from the stairs. “Hold on, hold on. We ain’t done with you yet.”

“Haven’t you been listening to what I’m saying? Someone attacked me, and it’s not you! He might return, and I am not waiting to see what happens next!”

“He’s got a point, John,” Leo said. “We’ll deal with him once we’re out of the woods.”

John breathed through his nose and looked to Art, who agreed with Leo.

“Okay, okay.” He turned to Eddie. “But you better not do anything stupid.”

“Do I look like I can?” He gestured at his injured leg.

“Fine. Leo, help him up,” John ordered, taking out the walkie-talkie from his belt. “Scottie, start the van. We’re getting out of here.”

John waited for a few seconds for a reply.

Scottie didn’t answer back.

In the van, John’s voice echoed across the empty cabin, ordering Scottie to answer him.

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